Emerald
by Madame Tango
Summary: Caitlin Errikson is an actress on her way to her first Australian Television awards nights - The Logies. However she never makes it there instead disappearing in a strange light.
1. Chapter 1

EMERALD

My hands smooth down the soft velvet and I stare into the mirror. The designer has just left and I now feel like I am completely encased in emerald green velvet and black chiffon. The top of the dress and my shoulders are gently swathed by the chiffon and then the bodice of green velvet hugs my body so tightly that you would see if I ate a donut. Hell I reckon you'd be able to tell if I drank a glass of water it is so figure hugging. Intricate gold thread work adorns the velvet but not in an obvious way. The threads gently spell out my name in a pattern that combines both Celtic and Nordic symbols that I designed myself at university a few years ago. I was going to be a writer or archaeologist- still not sure how I ended up here. I twist and the black train of chiffon follows me. It's going to be hard to get use to being trailed by the cloud of fabric all night, though it feels nice and cool against my legs. My auburn hair, cascading down my back in a messy, just out of bed tussle, which took the hairdresser an hour to create, frames my face and touches on my high Nordic/Celtic cheek bones. The green velvet reflects my dark green eyes and I feel beautiful

I turn back to the mirror and look – not bad for a country girl who didn't feel the need to wear make up until just a few years ago. I smile and begin to practice my speech – a speech I will most likely not get to use.

And the Logie for most outstanding actress in a drama series goes to...

Caitlin Erikkson.

I look surprised and excited, but not too much of either and I gently hug the imaginary co-star next to me, careful not to disturb my make -up, dress or hair.

"Oh wow – this is such a surprise," I say trying not to gush because it actually would be a shock to win.

"It was an honour just to be nominated." (Because it was and I actually never expected it – the category is filled with famous seasoned actresses who have all been nominated for this award at least three times and I've only been in three productions in my life. Well other than playing the odd tree, an angel and Oliver in school productions.)

I thank everyone who I have ever had any contact with in my entire life and finish with something witty (I'm not sure what that is yet but my award is late in the night and I will have time to come up with something).  
I look pleased with myself and feel ready to head down stairs for the ceremony.  
Suddenly a hand moves down my cheek and I look in the mirror, shocked, but I see nothing. I freeze but I can't move or scream.  
A voice whispers quietly, deeply and slightly menacing in my ear.  
"It is good to see my princess wearing those colours."  
I turn and look behind me and again I see nothing.  
I wonder if the antihistamine I took an hour ago to stave off a reaction to the hair products I have been doused with is playing havoc with my mind.  
I turn back to the mirror and see myself visibly shaking in the glass – though I didn't need a mirror to telegraph that. My hand reaches to the table next to me to grab my phone and ring my co-star who is arriving in a minute or two to walk me down to the Logies ceremony in the Crown Casino in the heart of Melbourne. But just then I swear I feel fingers on mine. Again I look and there is nothing.  
I'm glad now he is on speed-dial and I hit the call button.  
He answers straight away "Hey Catie – there in a minute."  
"I...I..." I stammer but I don't finish the sentence and suddenly I'm enveloped in gold light and my hotel room disappears...

Suddenly out of nowhere I'm in a strange room and believe me when I say strange – I mean strange. I am more than well aware that I'm not in Kansas anymore Toto (hell I don't think I'm even on the same planet).

I've never been one for any type of drugs – even pain killers – and now I know why! I'm tripping in a big way because this room is like nothing I've experienced -ever.

It's huge – it leaves the Crown for dead – you could fit the entire Australian TV Industry in here. Not just the "stars" and all of the failed contestants from the past few years of reality television like at the Logies but EVERYONE. Columns of marble and gold line the walls and the floor is made of beautiful mosaics of classical horse and warrior scenes. It all leads up to a huge dais and the biggest throne you have ever seen – I mean this puts the throne on the TV show every one raves about to absolute shame. The thing is huge and golden with rich velvet cushions.

I look around and see no one. I should be scared but I'm more pissed off than anything. I mean, while the dress was a collaboration with the designer and will go back to go her for display, I paid a motza for the shoes and I was about to sweep down a staircase with probably the best looking guy in Australian television on my arm. And now I'm in a huge deserted room in a huge palace – all dressed up with nowhere to go!

Talk about a bad trip! If you are going to hallucinate now is not the time to do it.

I will myself to wake up and return to Melbourne, Australia, the Earth but it's not happening.

"Wake up, Wake up, WAKE UP!" I yell.

"Why won't I wake the hell up!?"

I'm getting more than a little frustrated now and I stamp my foot and harrumph loudly.

It's then that I hear the chuckle, low, slow and more than a little menacing. I turn slowly looking for the source – still no-one.

Fear grips me a little now even though I'm still convinced this is all a figment of my imagination – I've always been vivid but this, this is the 3D IMAX of dreams.

A shiver runs up my spine but I take a deep, deep breath, exhale and try and pull myself together.

"I am going to count to three and then I'm going to wake up!" I say to the room in a quiet but determined voice (ignoring the little voice in the back of my head telling me to curl up in foetal position and hope for this to go away).

"One!" I say, counting along with my fingers.

Deep breath.

"Two," I exclaim a little louder, looking around with a combination of anger and nervous tension.

"Thr..." I start, but before I can finish, a voice in a low low barely audible growl whispers in my ear.

"You... are...not...asleep!" the voice says with quiet yet sinister calm in my ears.

I feel hands run slowly, slowly down my arms and I shiver. I don't turn but I flick my eyes left and actually finally see the long slender but manly fingers sliding down my arm. I feel a hot breath on my neck and smell a combination of peppermint, herbs and a woody musk wafting towards me.

My whole body tenses going rigid as I am wracked with a strange combination of fear and anger. The fingers wrap around each of my wrists and the man or whatever this creature is leans in so close I can feel him gently but firmly pressed against my back.

I take another huge deep breath, again trying to bring calm back.

"Who are you and where have you taken me," I hiss through clenched teeth trying to match his menace and let this creature know that I am nobody's shrinking violet. But it's all false bravado and inside I have never been more scared – terrified – in my entire 26 years of life (not even when I was small and scared of the dark, permanently camped completely under the doona at night).

He chuckled, let go of my wrists and moved in a very slow and very deliberate circle around me, grabbing my right wrist again in his left hand as he came to a stop in front of me.

Finally I had the chance to see the creature that had snatched me from my Logies dream.

He is human – well he looks it anyway and that's a bonus. Tall, almost 6'3 I'd guess, given I was standing eye to eye with him in my three inch heels. He has the blackest hair I'd ever seen – pure black but with the shimmer of someone who takes good care of themselves. Eyes of the deepest brightest green that looked full of intelligence and menace in equal part. His cheek bones were high and noble – hell the man had zygoma to cut paper on. Strong mouth and jaw line. His dress somewhat resembles my own – well in colour at least – don't think he'd look good in my evening dress but you never know. He is skinny but not slight, well proportioned with an athlete's body. He wears tight leather black leather trousers and long boots, a long green velvet tunic, trimmed in gold with a long black leather coat.

He has the stance and bearing of someone who is supremely confident, wickedly intelligent and born to be obeyed.

I peer back at his face and see he has been looking me up and down too.

His eyes gleam and he has the look of a wild animal taking in its prey and the brief moment of curiosity I felt turns back to fear and apprehension and my blood turns to ice. He increases his grip on my wrist until it almost hurts and lifts it to his lips, pressing them feather light on my skin before looking up into my eyes.

"I...am...LOKI...of...A..SGARD!" he annunciates slowly.

And I laugh.

He grips my hand and his eyes blaze – this was obviously not the reaction he expected and it kind of surprised me. But really, Loki, the God of Mischief.

"Yeah right, which one, the Norse God or the Marvel Super Villain" I say, shaking my head.

He pulls my arm and drags me close to him until we are chest to chest, velvet to velvet.

"Both and neither Caitlin Erikkson!" he says, his face just inches from mine.

"Both and neither."

My eyes have bugged out in shock .

"How...the...HELL...do you know my name!" I say.

He laughs menacingly and smiles in a way that creeps me out and turns me on against my will.


	2. Chapter 2

Emerald 2

I stare at the man in front of me. A man who a) seems to have abducted me from the Logies and b) is now telling me he is or isn't the Norse God of Mischief/Marvel super villain. He looks a bit like the movie villain but not entirely. I've met the actor who plays him and while they look very similar you would still tell the difference. This guy is, if anything, slightly taller and (dare I say it) even better looking (yeah I didn't think it possible either).

What is most disturbing – well other than being plucked from my hotel room before the big awards presentation and transported, probably to another planet, by a menacing "god" is that "Loki" knows my name.

"How the hell do you know my name?" I repeat eyeing him suspiciously – he still has an air of danger about him but I'm a dog with a bone now and yeah I'm scared and obviously in a strange place with a possible lunatic, however I'm not giving up until I get some answers.

His eyes are blazing but so, I know, are mine now.

I rip my hand from his and step back so I can jab my index finger into his breastbone.

"And how the Hell did I get here and what do you mean you are the Norse God of Mischief and Marvel Super Villain and yet you aren't," I say poking at his chest with each question.

His eyes soften slightly and he moves his own hand up to capture my finger before I can jab him again.

"I am Loki of Asgard, " the real one," he answers looking me in the eye and sighing, his voice is still low and a little menacing but I'm starting to think a lot of the tough/creepy guy stuff was just for show. Still I'm not going to turn my back on him any time soon. I have the indents of his fingers on my wrists and, well, I'm not back at the Crown Casino yet am I?

"And you ask a lot of questions!" he growls.

I laugh at this – not one of those full laughs – but that nervous half laugh you get in times of stress, it's a little too loud and a little too high.

His hand moves from my index finger to envelop my whole hand and he tugs, motioning to the grand stairs behind us.

"Come!" he commands.

"We need to talk I think."

He expects me to follow meekly and sit beside him to "talk" but I don't.

I'm actually getting bloody angry now – really bloody angry.

"The hell we do!" I growl.

"What we need "LOKI"," I say, half spitting his name.

"Is for you to return me to the Logies and leave me the HELL alone – I'm missing the awards! People will be searching for me!"

He sighs again. "You have only been gone a minute or two and I can have you back before anyone realises you've been gone!" he growls.

I look him in the eye – still not really appeased.

"Oh you're a Timelord now are you, Loki-not-Loki?" I spit, my body now quivering with rage and not fear.

And then for the first time I see the hint of a smile on his face and he rolls his eyes at me, looking skyward, possibly actually regretting stealing me away from earth.

He lets out a heavy breath and looks at me.

"No but there are spells and we need a little time to talk I think – it is obvious you've been told nothing of your heritage, your royal blood or your destiny Caitlin," he says shaking his head and sighing. "Bloody Thor!"

"There's a Thor? What does your brother have to do with this?" I ask, eyes widening like saucers – now there is a man (well the Australian actor that plays him is hot, I can only imagine the real thing is even better given my current example).

The eye roll is back and he motions me again to the stairs – "Sit!" it's not menacing now but it's still a command and I figure I should do it. We sit a little way apart on the wide stone stairs (no easy feat in this dress I can tell you) and he turns to me, shaking his head yet again, obviously wondering where to start this little story.

"Caitlin what does your last name mean?" he asks finally. It is not what I expected and I cock and eyebrow at him in speculation.

"Son of Eric- but Eric means ever or eternal ruler," I say and he nods.

"Eric was the head of one of six clans chosen to lead Asgard. Each clan takes a turn to rule," he starts to explain but I interrupt him. He's just said Asgard – holy frigging hell I'm ACTUALLY on Asgard.

"Asgard? Really Asgard?" I ask enthusiastically and he laughs.

"Yes Caitlin – you are on the planet of Asgard – the planet of your forefathers. But we aren't gods or villains – we are just ordinary people – well slightly more than ordinary but not all powerful, well not totally all powerful," he gives up trying to sound like Asgardians are humble ordinary folk and moves on quickly.

"However we've visited your planet a few times over the years and we have seeped into your folklore in many and varied ways," he continues starting to sound like he is explaining string theory to a four year old with no chance of grasping it.

I go to interrupt him and ask him what they call my planet but he narrows his eyes at me.

"I can only hold time for half an hour of Mid ah Earth's time and if you want to get back to your banquet I suggest you let me finish," he says and although I'm smiling because he pretty much called Earth Midgard, I make a lock sign in front of my lips and nod for him to continue. I'm not sure I'm buying this story but hey, I have no other explanation yet and I'm stuck here until he sends me back.

"There are six clans – Errikson, Stevenson, Pieterson, Magnusson, Davidson and Laufeyson," he says, looking at me quickly and watching me smirk. I am victim to yet another eye-roll and a half laugh.

"Yes I'm Loki Laufeyson," he sighs before continuing, "I'm the current king – taking over from the previous ruler, Odin about 28 of your earth years ago," Loki says looking at me for some recognition, but it is all new to me and I have no idea what he is talking about.

"That's less than two Asgardian years though."

I half smile and tell him it's a fascinating system but it has nothing to do with me. Loki shakes his head and smiles back and it's finally a warm smile with a hint of the cheekiness of our legends. He moves in a little closer and takes one of my hands and surprisingly I let him. His hand feels a little calloused and I wonder if that is from sword training or horse riding or something princely (maybe, just maybe he's telling the truth). He leans in very close to me and I get that alluring smell of peppermint and herbs again and he growls in that low voice and something stirs in my stomach (oh god this is not good – he's a figment of my imagination at best and an intergalactic psychopath at worst).

"Oh but Cait this is where you are wrong – this system has everything to do with you... and me," he adds quietly, looking slightly wolfish again. I start to wonder what he's up to and maybe suspect where he's going with this.

"You see," he says grabbing my other hand and moving in even closer if that is possible.

"All the princes of the realm are encouraged to marry for love and to marry outside the clans to keep the bloodlines diverse.

"But not the king Cait – the king must marry for unity of the clans.

"The king must marry the granddaughter of the previous ruler – they are promised Cait, promised," he stops and then moves his lips close to my ear and adds slowly and huskily. "The Laufeyson king must wed the Errikson princess," it's almost more of a caress than a sentence. I shiver from something but I don't think its fear anymore before proper realisation begins to dawn on me.

I quickly move back from him, shaking my head as I stand up.

"No! I'm from Earth, I'm Australian and I'm no Princess!" I say getting louder as the sentence goes on.

I shake my head again – I know my history – this can't be right – it's not – it's the ravings of a mad man. My grandfather was Owen – he was a businessman who died before I was born and my dad, Tony is a country doctor not some prince of an alien realm. It's all bullcrap.

"I don't believe you!" I say looking him straight in the eye. He has stood up and is standing in front of me toe-to-toe.

"I won't listen to this rubbish, send me home!" I demand.

"As you wish," he says moving in close to me again.

"But you will be back!" he whispers.

I start to tell him that he is gravely mistaken and I'll slap an intergalactic restraining order if he tries (they have to exist right?). However before I finish, I'm glowing with the golden light and before I know it I'm back in my motel room at the Crown, phone in hand and my co-star on the line.


	3. Chapter 3

Emerald 3

"Realm jumping" or whatever the hell I just did, is very disconcerting.

I feel a little lightheaded and I'm only half listening to the conversation I'm having with Mark on the mobile. He's on his way to pick me up and I'm going to the Logies.

Half an hour ago – or two minutes ago – depending on if you're using Earth or Asgard time (Asgard time? Really?) – I would have been so excited about that. The man is gorgeous and has become a great mate. If I'm honest I'd been hoping that tonight we would take things to the next level but that was before...before. Well I don't know what it was before. What I just went through, the whole Loki thing well that seemed real, very real but well I could be more than a touch delusional, right?

I mean, it's not normal to suddenly beam to another planet and hold a conversation with an alien who tells you you're a princess and that you are pretty much engaged to him? Right? That doesn't happen to ordinary people in everyday life, right?

My dad's a doctor – he knows these things – he's dealt with plenty of delusional people, he'd tell me it was all some crazy "thing" caused by the stress of work and the pressures of sudden fame. He'd have me off to some quiet Island to rest in two seconds flat.

I look at the phone and scroll to his number. Tony Errikson – dad - my finger hovers – what if he tells me not to go to the Logies, I want to go to the Logies, I've earned the Logies. Or worse – what if he tells me that – tall dark and extra-terrestrial was... yeah right. He wasn't real, that doesn't happen. I shake my head and punch the button.

It rings and rings and just as I expect voice mail I get well, voice male.

"Dr Errikson?" he answers. I laugh, he can't just say hello like other people – or look at his phone and realise it's me – nup – he's a workaholic and he's always "On" mmmm no point wondering where I get that from then.

"Dad!" I say quickly.

"Caitie? What are you doing ringing now? Your mum, the boys and I are all sitting down to watch the silly awards thing, aren't you supposed to be turning up on the red carpet and looking beautiful?" he says.

I laugh a little nervously, dad doesn't quite approve of my choice to become an actress rather than something "useful" like a doctor. He and my brother Cameron already have the doctoring covered though. I think he would be happier if I was a farmer like my mother and my brother Ewan. I've had the "you are a smart girl Caitlin, don't waste it!" speech on numerous occasions.

I focus back on the phone – Mark will be here in a few minutes so I don't have long and I really really do need help.

"Yeah dad I'm all ready – it's just, well something weird just happened," I start. This is hard – I mean how do you tell your father that his only daughter is a crackpot.

"I mean I haven't been taking drugs – well just an antihistamine, but nothing, you know, illegal. It's just well, it was weird and it's probably not real and I think, well I think I'm going mad," I gush.

My father laughs slightly and tells me to slow down but well, as I said, this is hard, right? This isn't a "normal people" conversation. And I don't know how to have this "chat" – maybe I shouldn't have it now? But I need to have it, don't I? I need to tell someone, need help. So I take a deep breath and say it.

"Look dad I was here in the room and then I wasn't and there was this man – he said he was Loki and I was a princess and you were a prince and Pop was king and...dad I'm going mad," I finish in a hurry.

The line was quiet. Too quiet I mean so quiet, I figured he'd actually hung up on his lunatic daughter.

"Dad? Dad are you still there?" I ask now a little concerned that my dad has had some sort of a "turn" as a result of finding out his daughter is actually certifiably mad.

"Yes, yes um hang on," he says.

Then I hear a noise in the background and realise that he is moving outside away from the noise of the television, and my family, and I really worry.

"Dad? Are you okay?" I ask.

"UM yes Caitie Kay, um," he stammers. Okay he hasn't called me Catie Kay for a long time – it was his pet name for me when I was little.

"Dad what is this? Do I have some horrible disease, oh my god I have a brain tumour – I have a brain tumour, that's what's has caused this hallucination!" I stammer.

He laughs now slightly. "No Catie – it's okay, you're okay it's just, I was promised more time to explain it to you, to explain our government system," he says quietly.

"Bloody Loki – he promised!" he spat.

Okay right, that is really not what I expected and my breath hitches in my throat.

"Dad what the hell are you telling me? Are you trying to tell me that what just happened was real, that I'm a bloody fucking alien princess? Because now I know this delusion thing has to be hereditary!" I say laughing slightly maniacally. An hour ago I was normal, an hour ago I was better than normal, I was going to the Logies and now um...

"Dad?" I say again, because he isn't really saying much, which is totally out of character for my dad I can tell you.

"Dad?"

He sighs really deeply and if I was there I know I'd be seeing him run his fingers through his blonde hair and fiddling with the little bits of grey at his temple.

"Catie when are you coming home? When will you be back in Hay?" he asks suddenly breaking the silence.

I stare into space a little because this conversation has, instead of calming me down, left me feeling more than a tad uncomfortable. Okay it's totally freaked me out if I'm honest. I'm starting to think maybe I'm not the person I have always believed I was.

It's Sunday night, I have the awards now and then television appearances if I win (yeah right, holding my breath for that - not). When could I be back up to Hay? It is 422km to Hay from here, almost five hours by car. I have auditions this week, meetings with my agent. But there is something weird here and I need it sorted out as soon as I can.

"Wednesday!" I say quietly. "I can be there by Wednesday."

I'm about to go on – to pin him down on this but my train of thought is interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Catie? Catie? Are you there, we need to get down for the red carpet arrivals?" Mark says through the door.

"Coming!" I call out.

"Look dad I've got to go – I'll see you Wednesday," I say quietly, still really not knowing what to think.

"That's good – yes – we need to talk, I need to explain, I'm long over-due to explain it's just well, I didn't think it would be necessary," he rambles out.

I shake my head trying not to feel anger at the man who may, or may not, have been lying to me all my life. I mean would I have believed it if I hadn't been there? Hadn't met Lord Loki of the tight pants? Yeah, not at all. I still don't! I still think the hereditary madness thing is closer to the truth. I know we aren't going to solve this on the phone and as much as I'd love to use Lokis "golden light thing" pop up to Hay and work out what the hell is going on right now, I can't. I have commitments. I take a deep breath.

"Okay dad Wednesday!" I say trying not to be too brisk with him but really wanting to shake the crap out of him for doing this to me now. A little "oh no you're just a bit stressed – you imagined it!" might have been nice right now but noooooooo. If he's been lying to me for 26 years then he picked a fine time to stop.

"Good luck Catie Kay," he says. I mumble my thanks a little gruffly and prepare to hang up the phone but just as I do he starts again.

"And Cait – don't worry no one is going to force you to do anything!" he says cryptically and is gone before I can work out what he is talking about.

I grab my purse and head to greet Mark and go to my first Logies but my head isn't in it – my head is in the stars – quite literally in the stars!


	4. Chapter 4

Emerald 4

We descend the staircase, me in the green velvet and black-chiffon dress (and a few hundred dollars worth of three inch heels) and Mark wearing a suit designed by someone infinitely better-known than either of us (put together). Already huge crowds have gathered outside and we swing out there to sign some autographs and just enjoy the crowd and the atmosphere.

And then it's time to walk the carpet and answer a million and one question from the "red carpet journalists". Well when I say red carpet journos but these guys are nothing like the journos on the red carpet in Hollywood – they don't get a lot of chance to line a carpet here in Melbourne. But they still ask a lot of awkward questions and, to be honest, I'm not really up for it now. I'm lucky Mark takes the lead, it's not really out of any chivalrous need to protect me though, let's face it, he has a movie and two TV series' on their way out and he really needs to give them as much publicity as he can (one is on the ABC, so you know how much money the public broadcaster will have to splash around on promotions – yeah none to zero).

I have a guest-spot in one of the local soaps to promote but my next "things" are a couple of really really big auditions in the UK next week but I can't actually talk about either of them. In fact I've been sworn to secrecy under pain of death (well of "never working in this town again" – which is pretty standard).

We stand there on the red carpet and I answer all the dress and shoe questions – a couple of times. I usually like to deflect these but I have to pay the designer back for the attention to detail on what is proving a bit of an eye-catching gown for the throng of media. And not just for them. I involuntarily remember the look on the face of the not-god of Mischief as he checked out the dress. Mmmm well probably not JUST my dress (hopefully the media won't notice the sudden flush of red that creeps across my face as I remember his eyes on me, his touch...). I wonder if he's still watching me now? Mmm Do I have an intergalactic stalker? Oh yay that's a nice thought, because ET in this case can not only phone home but he can probably beam me there whenever he feels like it. Other people get crazy fans watching their house, I get that but in space-opera proportions (lucky me).

We make it through the throng and into the huge ball room – well it would have seemed huge yesterday but at the moment it just likes a cheap imitation of "Loki's" throne room (oh my god – throne room – who has a throne room? I mean a REAL throne room – imagine saying "I'm going to the throne room" and not meaning the toilet!).

Don't get me wrong, the room still looks amazing – set out with 12 seater tables, crisp white tablecloths and a red and black theme. But after "Asgard" I'm not as impressed as I should be. Everyone who is anyone (and a lot who aren't) is here and it's hard not to be a little star struck. Last year's Gold Logie winner (for the most popular performer in Australian television) Asher Keddie, is on the table next to me. We are both nominated in the same category "most outstanding actress in a drama" – she's going for back-to-back wins and I'm just happy to be sitting in the same room as her. But she's gracious and leans across to wish me luck and compliment me on my dress and I do the same. I'm struck by the fact that her figure hugging black dress features panels of black leather and of course, with black leather my brain drifts back to ET hotpants and his pimped-up palace in the sky. Let's face it, it isn't going to take much at the moment to have me thinking of Loki.

I hardly touch my food or notice that the young starlet behind us is flirting up a storm with Mark – who is my date and who – so the media speculation goes – is also my lover (chance and fine thing mmm). But the starlet doesn't know it's not happening and from the eyelid batting, she doesn't care much either. Instead of staking my claim like I should or would, I am internalizing. Trying to go over everything both Loki and my father said.

I'm a princess?! Yeah probably sort of kind of given my father's reaction and the way King Zygoma was sniffing around. And I'm "promised" like in some weird intergalactic arranged marriage way to tall-dark and cheek-boned. Uh-huh.

My family is from out of town – waaaaay out of town – Asgard, which actually exists.

Loki, exists and is king, Odin existed, was king and possibly my grandfather "Owen" – there is also a Thor though I'm not sure what other "gods" are actual freaky aliens.

I'm just trying to work out how it all fits together when Mark (obviously over his flirtation with the big-boobed beauty at the next table) puts his hand on my knee and gives it a squeeze.

"Hey there – are you still with me," he says leaning over towards me in a conspiratorial manner, smiling.

I give him a warm smile back and try to focus on the Logies and on this incredibly good-looking, but still intelligent and witty and talented man sitting next to me. It's hard to push the alien princess thing to the back of my mind especially when it's just happened but I've got to – this is my real life right – this is my future.

I put my hand on top of his on my knee and his rich brown eyes sparkle and my heart flutters a little. (Yay – we have now returned to our regularly scheduled program!)

"Sorry I'm so distracted!" I say leaning in to whisper in his ear.

"Family problems?" he asks, his voice full of concern. I nod – well it's true and better than explaining what has happened and then being dragged off in a straight-jacket.

"What award are we up to?" I ask and he laughs and explains that it's the most popular drama. Our show isn't nominated in this one but I figure I had better know who won at least one category in case I'm asked at the after party. I've already pretty much ignored all of the musical acts (no great loss) and the first five awards. So I tune in and the soap, which I'm guesting in soon wins – yay for picking the right award to watch, The acceptance speech is pretty good too – witty and interesting and they even mention the Australian guy who went on to play Thor – a former cast member. I remember my dad thought it was hilarious that Thor was an Aussie – I could never quite work out what was so funny.

Holy crap!

The light bulb goes off.

"Holy crap!" this time I must have actually said it rather than just thought it because Mark leans in and asks in a whisper if I'm okay.

I smile and tell him I'm fine I just have to go make an urgent phone call. Mark looks at me like I'm slightly insane and I probably am but I need to phone home and I need to do it now. I reassure him I'll be back for my category and sneak out of the room. The foyer is actually pretty empty and press free (thank god) and I find a quiet place to make my call. I will actually kill him if he doesn't answer.

The phone rings about three times and I'm contemplating the home phone when I get the "hello Dr Errikson."

Before he can say anything more I drop it on him.

"Dad just tell me one thing – Are you Thor?"


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

My head hurts and my legs and my arms. Hell my body hurts all over and I'm less than game to open my eyes because I can bet the room would spin and swim out of control.

I snuggle down into the blankets and sigh gently. I can't believe how soft and comforting they feel. I don't remember the bedclothes in my room feeling so silky and this fur is just perfect for snuggling into.

Um hang on? Fur? Since when has fur been part of the bedclothes at Crown or anywhere in hotels in Australia?

"What the?" I murmur groggily and I hear a tired half sigh half giggle next to me.

I try to fling my eyes open wildly and sit up but it comes out more as a half squint and the sitting up really does send my head spiralling.

"You might like to cover yourself, the healer will be back in a moment to check on you and we don't want her to get the wrong idea," says the voice from somewhere to the left and I squint down to see I'm naked (at least from the waist up) and going by the tones and timbre of the voice – I've just flashed the king of Asgard.

Embarrassed and a little dazed, I drag the covers up around me – they had only slipped a little so he got just a flash of nipple.

"Sorry I don't think that it's good royal manners for a princess to flash her monarch on their second meeting," I mumble for some strange reason (yeah I'm totally out of it.)"

And I'm sure I hear him monotone. "Nice customs curtsey to great kings, Cait!' – now I know i'm in cloud cuckoo land because I'm hearing an alien quote Shakespeare and now the room is spinning wildly so I lay back down.

I'm obviously still a little out of it from whatever it was that happened last night and it is only slowly dawning on me that I'm once again "out of this world" with no idea how I got here and when. Not only that but I'm naked (I pull back the covers gently to check the thin silk knickers I was wearing under my dress are still in place, they are and feel a little happier – but not much). I finally take in the room I'm in, it is opulent and large, but not ostentatiously so in either case. It is furnished in dark wood, with polished wood floors, scattered with rugs. There is an overstuffed couch in front of an open fire place and book cases line every wall except the ones with the huge windows in front of the bed. It feels more like an old-fashioned drawing room with a canopied bed dropped in the middle, than a purposed bedroom. Next to me is a large winged chair, decorated with added Asgardian king. He is wearing dark trousers and a white shirt and long dark boots but he looks slightly more dishevelled than kingly. He has dark circles under his eyes and looks very little like the sexy woman- eating wolf of our first encounter. It's for this reason, and the fact that I still feel distinctly disorientated, that I don't give him both barrels. I kind of sense something happened but it is yet to fully filter to the surface of my mind.

I still manage a "What the hell am I doing here!" but it lacks the venom it would have had in other circumstances.

"You don't remember?" he asks with a voice full of concern.

I go to shake my head but it hurts and I flinch slightly. He moves a long-fingered hand to my forehead and smoothes back my hair, gently checking my temperature with his hand – it's cooling and soothing and I wonder if he has used some kind of magic.

"Mmm," I say moving into his hand a little enjoying the sensation of human um Asgardian touch.

"Are you going to take your Jotun form and cool my temperature," I ask in a gentle jibe and I see him visibly wince. He moves his head in closer to me and almost whispers.

"You watch too much propaganda masquerading as your world's popular culture!" he says. I'm not sure what he means so I leave it.

"Just rest Cait, try and regain your strength and memories, and then I'll send you home.

"I don't want an angry Thor blundering in here and accusing me of abducting his daughter.

"Twice!" he adds with a slight laugh.

Thor – what is the significance of Thor – what do I remember? Oh crap and the night starts to come back to me. Making the connection between my dad and the god of thunder – holy heck, not only that but calling him on it.

"My dad is Thor!" I say feeling stupid. It's a statement not a question. And Loki nods.

"My father, as you could imagine, was fairly taken aback by receiving two phone calls in two hours to discuss our whole other secret life, I don't think you'll be his favourite person," I tell Loki – wondering if he understands or knows what a phone call is. He's nodding and cryptically adds that he hasn't been a big fan lately anyway. Given this reaction and the fact he may, or may not have quoted Henry V before, I sense he is well-versed with Earth culture so I continue.

"He tried to fob me off – with the "not now – it's complicated" speech but, well I've always been tenacious. In the end he told me that yes he may have gone by that name at some point. However he said it was not that simple and we really did need to have a proper discussion about this later."

"Actually to that point I'd kind of been enjoying the whole "Asgardian princess fantasy" but that's when I still thought it could be a fantasy. It's was a lot more real after the second call. My father was really Thor – known to some as the God of Thunder – I had so many questions.

"He was adamant that this was not a five minute on the phone thing and that there was a lot to discuss now I knew the very very basic details," I say.

"He asks me to trust him – but can you trust someone that you have just discovered has been lying to you?" I get a sympathetic smile from the possible god of mischief so I continue.

"I have more questions than I can ponder and I don't think I can handle people. All I really want to do is leave Crown and just walk by the Yarra River and try and get my head around all this crap. But I'm not exactly going to blend into the crowd of Sunday night diners am I? Even when I'm not dressed in green velvet and acres of chiffon – at six foot with reddie-auburn hair I don't exactly blend in. Add three inch heels and I'm a freak – always the tallest girl in school – something I was teased about a lot.

"Oh god am I normal here on Asgard?" I ask Loki – "Are Asgardians naturally taller?"

He smiles gently and nods urging me to go on.

"I realise I actually don't know much about the world, the universe... And what I thought I knew has now just been blown out of the water by what is probably the strangest night I have ever ever had," I continue.

"I certainly never expected my first Logies night to be like this and of course at that point I remember the awards ceremony. I'd forgotten all about them. So I stand up from my little hidey-hole in the foyer just in time to see Mark, my agent and the producer of our show all coming out of the ballroom.

"Your award is up next," my harassed looking agent tells me as they all half man-handle me back into the room and over to my chair. We made it just in time with the presenters announcing first Asher Keddes name and then mine and flashing the camera onto us both quickly before moving on to the other three nominees.

"I kind of didn't need to bother though. There was no need for acceptance speech (just as well as I still hadn't come up with my "something witty") Asher won it as we all knew she would and I was left to smile and look gracious. I think I probably handled that well because, to be honest, I was relieved. That would have been some acceptance speech - I'd like to thank my mother Jane – she's a farmer near Hay in the "outback" and my dad Tony who is a Doctor at the Hay hospital and moonlights as the God of Thunder. Yeah probably not."

Loki snorts a little at this and I tell him that at this point the details get a bit hazy – well for hazy read – I started to drink the odd glass of wine (or seven – don't judge me I was numb).

The Logies end and we all head on to the after party two floors up but I'm not travelling well and after disappearing out to the foyer to think for a while (and sober up). I come back to the party to find Mark with his tongue in the mouth of the girl with the massive mummeries and it's the last straw.

"I felt like my whole world had been turned upside down and back to front," I tell Loki.

"So I run for the room, but I forgot that I had a cloud of fabric trailing me and as I run for the stairs I catch my heel in the train and...well I don't remember anything after that."

Loki, who had by this time slumped back in his chair to listen to my story, moves in closer to me again and asks if I remember calling his name and I shake my head.

He laughs.

"Actually you called me some interesting things that I didn't know existed," he laughs.

"But I heard you and arrived just in time to see you tumble down the stairs and hit your head," the mirth leaving his eyes quickly.

"I didn't know if you were alive or dead and I didn't know what else to do so I grabbed you and brought you home. I summoned my most trusted and discreet healer and we put you in here – it's my old bedroom. I've moved into the "Kings apartment" but I have kept this, this is my safe place. Where I come to be me – not King Loki of Asgard," he adds. After becoming a "bit of a star" in recent years I get where he is coming from and I nod.

"Thank you!" I say and I mean it. It was an incident that could have cost me my career and my life. His eyes soften again. "We we can't have the future queen of Asgard dying in a drunken tumble down a stairwell can we," he laughs mischievously, destroying a nice moment..

I punch him in the arm for that one – "Hey don't get any ideas – I still think this whole situation is a load of crap and I don't know what the hell is going on and why you have suddenly come into my life!" I say.

He feigns serious injury then explains that he thought I'd been told – the colour of my clothing, the way I kept mentioning his name. I look at him like he's insane. Saying his name? When did I say his name?

Reading my mind he laughs.

"Logie sounds a lot like Loki from this distance in space!"


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter six

I am sure that I'm living in some temporal distortion because the past two days have both flown and dragged.

I'm finally in my little Toyota heading up the highway from Melbourne out to Hay to talk to my father. We haven't had any time for a conversation since that phone-call during the Logies and to be honest I don't care. He has rung and left a couple of messages but I have been both too busy and too shaken up to bother.

My life turned arse over apex in just two days and it's going to be hard to put it back on the right course. Plus I'm now starting to get really angry that he decided to lie to me. I mean, this isn't pretending there is a santa, this is telling me I'm something I'm not. Pretty big stuff for a guy that has always told me to be "true to myself".

He's not the only one who has featured in duplicate on my phone message bank. Mark seems very contrite about the whole big-boobied bimbo incident – calling it a "momentary lapse" – "you saw her kissing me I didn't kiss her back" or "I thought you weren't interested". He says he went looking for me but he couldn't find me. That last point is fair enough. Unless he went looking in the bed of the King of Asgard, he wasn't going to have much luck finding me was he? (Mmm does that sound wrong? It sounds wrong right?}. I've been enigmatic about where I was – well let's face it, he's not going to believe the truth is he? He did see me run out though and wants me to "give us a chance". Yeah, jury is still out on that.

Actually the only man in my life (can you call someone from Asgard a man?) that hasn't been phoning me is Loki. This is partly because he doesn't have a phone (imagine the international roaming on a call from Asgard) but mostly because he told me I had to talk to my dad first before we could speak more about the whole "arranged marriage" thing.

We left on fairly friendly terms though – after all the man did save my life. Shame about my dress which was a bit of a write-off. Though my designer friend did say we could do some things to save it. I was out of Asgard pretty quickly. I don't think Loki really wanted anyone to know I was there – let alone naked in his bed. Actually the healer, who turned out to be Loki's aunt Nula from the Laufeyson clan (which is important apparently?!) was pretty happy with the way I progressed and was happy to return me to Earth after a few further tests. I was lucky – she didn't have to do much other than give me a few "tonics" to help heal a fracture or two and I was back on earth by about 7.30am in the morning. I half wonder why dad doesn't use some of the Asgardian medicine – imagine healing a fractured ankle in about four hours?

Nula was kind and gentle and took no nonsense from her nephew which was pretty funny. He doesn't seem the sort of man that would take crap from anyone but she put him in his place a few times and sent him out of the room when she had to.

To my relief she confided that she was the one who got me out of my clothes, with a little help from Loki and his valet (not the word she used but pretty much what he is). But she made sure he didn't see anything he shouldn't (mmm until I flashed him). It was weird –she kept calling me princess or my lady which is just a head spin. Nula was also quick to point out that Loki didn't leave my side all night and seemed genuinely worried. "He'll make a good father one day!" she told me. Mmmmm match-making much Lady Nula? After the all-clear Loki sent me home with the brief to call him (and he actually mean's call out his name? Okay yep why not) later in the week after my chat with "Thor" – I giggled when he called dad Thor and he just rolled his eyes.

So after getting through an audition and meeting with a few people over the past two days – I'm off and travelling down the highway to Hay and probably one of the weirdest conversations two "earthlings?!" could ever have.

A couple of hours out of Melbourne I pull into Wagga Wagga. The "city" is the capital of the Riverina area and has a population of around 47,000. It doesn't sound much now but when I was a kid, Wagga (I'm local so I can get away with one Wagga) was the big smoke. Then I went to university in Melbourne and on to NIDA in Sydney to study drama and I realised that in the scheme of things Wagga Wagga is small potatoes. But still getting here means I'm closing in on home and my mum and dad and at least one of my brothers.

I still have a little way to go before I get out to Hay but I'm hungry and needing to make a stop. I head to a little cafe that my parents stop at nearly every time they go to Wagga. I grab a sandwich plus a few snacks for the car. There isn't a hell of a lot between here and Hay and I know I'll get the munchies. The owner Helen, who has known me all my life, chats about the Logies and my next role and this and that and by the time I head out the door it's been half an hour.

I come out to the carpark to find a strange woman sitting inside my locked car and I do a double-take. Three days ago I would have gone into panic and phoned the police but, as she is very blonde and Nordic looking and resembles an extra in Thor The Dark World – I'm fairly safe in thinking she's an off-world tourist. She actually doesn't notice me and seems to be doing her nails or something as I approach the car so when I knock on the window she gets a bit of a surprise and files more finger than nail. She lets out a yelp and focuses her eyes on me.

I open the door for her warily and she smiles. She resembles my dad way too much not to be related so I assume (fairly safely) that's she's from the Errikson clan. And I wonder too myself if that's necessarily a good thing?

"Princess Caitlyn of Clan Errikson?" she asks, looking me up and down.

"Who's asking?" I question as she gets out of the car. She isn't as tall as I expected – a couple of inches shy of my six foot frame, but she is insanely beautiful. I'd put her at Lokis age or just a touch younger – if she was human I'd say mid thirties. But given she is Asgardian I'd say she's at least as old as Hadrian's Wall if not a little more.

"I am the Princess Sigyn – youngest child of Odin and Frigga of Clan Errikson, All-Father and Mother of the realm-eternal of Asgard," she says rather more loudly then I would have liked.

I look around hoping that no-one has overheard this slightly out-of-place conversation and is calling the men with the butterfly nets to take myself and my um"aunt?" away. I'm lucky it's 11am, a little late for the morning rush and early for the lunch crowd so the little car park is deserted. It's just as well, I know a few people in town and I don't think I could explain this one away easily. After all there is no Supanova or Comicon in Wagga!

Even though we are basically alone, I put my finger in front of my lips and shush her a little.

"Um that's great so you are my aunt but what the hell are you doing here and how the hell did you find me?" I ask quietly.

She looks at me like I have just dribbled on my shirt – obviously I'm supposed to know the answers to that question. This is a woman who is very use to getting her own way and she is just a touch scary.

"I have a message from my mother the queen," she says looking down her nose at me. I swear the woman sucks lemons for breakfast such is her sour look.

I look at her curiously – I had naturally assumed that my grandmother was no longer around. While dad has told stories about Grandpa "Owen" I have never heard anything about my Grandmother and any time I asked, Dad would change the subject as quickly as possible.

Sigyn ignores me totally.

I look at her again actually feeling a little disappointed that she is "Sigyne". I kind of thought as Loki's "intended" that's who I would be in mythology. Reading the Norse legends as a child "for fun" according to my dad (massive eye-roll now!) she was the goddess of fidelity I think but she was certainly Loki's wife. Don't get me wrong, I'm not disappointed because I'm not Loki's wife – it's just, well, how cool would it be to be a legend, a myth?

I focus back on the clearly unamused goddess who is stamping her foot a little as she waits to regain my attention.

"My mother wishes to warn you to take care with things you don't understand or risk the future of our clan and our realm!" she says, narrowing her eyes at me in a way that says anything but family reunion.

I try to think of a witty come-back to basically tell them to butt out – but before I can, Sigyn disappears in a glow of golden light and I'm left talking to myself!

I'm never going to get use to this crazy family!


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven.

I'm just a tad shaken by "Aunt" Sigyne's warning and more than a bit angry.

I've only known about the whole Asgardian extended family for three days but already they are starting to become a bit on the nose like three-day old prawn heads left out in the garbage can.

I mean what the hell did she mean that her mother wanted me to stay out of things. I don't understand. I'm not in anything. Sure I've met Lord Loki Hot pants but that doesn't mean I'm going to believe his bullshit about being "promised". If I was promised surely my dad would have told me by now right? Being betrothed to someone from birth isn't exactly something you keep secret – mind you neither is being from another planet (well unless you're afraid of being dissected I suppose).

Well I'll know soon enough. I've just crossed the Murrumbidgee into Hay proper. I don't know whether to pop in on dad at the surgery and see if he can take a long lunch or just head home to the farm and stow my gear. Mind you going home isn't a simple trip around the road, the family property is 20 minutes down the road and it's another 10- minutes down our dusty road to the homestead on the Bidgee. Sure it would soak up about an hour and a half but after all the crap I've been through in recent days and now aunt sour puss from hell, I just want to see my dad.

I drive down the wide Main Street and take a left at the railway line (which use to be the lifeblood of the town but is pretty much a relic now thanks to road-trains). Following the Griffith Road or the Midwestern Highway past the bowls club (where just about every major milestone of my family's life has been celebrated) I finally pull into the hospital car park. Dad's rooms are just outside the Hospital grounds in an old federation style house but I always find it easier just to park at the hospital car park. It's ironic he is so close to the hospital because at the moment he doesn't have visiting rights there (a whole other story). In fact up until recently the hospital didn't have a dedicated doctor, relying on visiting practitioners from Griffith (more than an hour away).

But they do now – my brother Cameron! Dad couldn't be prouder I know, he likes to tell me that. – A lot.

I wander past the hospital which has been newly refurbished and looks pretty high-tech considering where it sits in the state (ie the middle of bloody nowhere). Dad's rooms are in an old white house with green trim and a neatly kept front garden. There is parking at the rear but we are never allowed to park there because "that Caitlin is for the patients!"

Inside there is a waiting room full of people. There's only two doctors in Hay (population just under 3000) and everyone loves dad. I wander in and immediately make a stir, everybody knows me here too and has a theory on what I should do next, why I should have won the Logie and what is happening with that handsome Benjamin (Matt's character in our recent mini-series). In the end Gloria the receptionist, who is more like an aunt than the scary woman I met an hour ago, ushers me back to the break room to get a bit of order in the place.

I make Gloria and I a cup of coffee and boil the jug again for dad's tea and wait. There's plenty of books (many are mine left here over the years) including all the classics and of course Shakespeare. I love Shakespeare – ever since I was a kid. I vaguely remember dad reading me his plays. I loved Much Ado and As You Like it but our favourite was always Henry V. Violent and bloody, mildly romantic and lots of fun. I flick to the Much Ado About Nothing text and study it. My big audition in London? Much Ado on the West End – shhh! Don't tell anyone!

After two and a half hours of reading, visits to the bakery and enough tea and coffee to keep me awake for a week. Dad is finished and ready to go home. I want to pounce on him and ask him everything now but he's happy to continue on with the small talk we started during his breaks in the afternoon! Yep he's a frustrating man!

So a 20 minute drive later, we arrive home to an empty house and he grabs a couple of beers and a couple of blankets and we head out to the big clay-pan out the side of our house away from the River.

We crack the beers, sit down and watch the big dome of sky above us. It's always been our "thing" we love that big sky. I take a sip of my beer and look at the man I've always known as my dad Tony Errikson. My dad, the alien from another galaxy. Kids always believe their parents are from another planet but mine really is.

"So Thor!" I say grinning. I've decided to keep this light. No recriminations, I just need the truth (although you know I want to slap him upside the head right?).

He cuffs me gently around the ears and shrugs.

"So um are you really the god of Thunder I ask," keeping the cheeky banter up.

He laughs at that "A guy makes one electrometric transducer and produces a bit of electrical storm and he's suddenly the good of Thunder!" he jokes.

"So no Hammer then dad?" I counter. And he laughed in a way that instantly reminded me of "Thor" in the Marvel movie and I had to giggle. (Why had I not seen the resemblance before – though my dad looks about 50-60 now and well, he's my dad, so I'm not going to think he's prettier than Chris Hemsworth right?)

"Well I had to shape my transducer like something!" he joked before turning, putting his beer down and facing me. Gently he puts his hand over mine and his eyes lose their twinkle.

"I'm sorry Caity – I just didn't know how to tell you! It's not something they mention in the toddler training books or Good Parenting Magazine," he says his eyes filling with sadness.

I put my other hand over his and squeeze it, smiling softly at him.

"Well I suppose it would be hard enough to tell your daughter you're an alien without the whole princess, arranged marriage thing," I offer.

"That's just it Caity you aren't promised to the King of Asgard," he says.

"But Loki..." I look confused and he sighs.

"Loki can marry any of the Errikson princesses, you're just one of the options," my dad says searching my face for something, I'm not sure what and I'm not sure he found it.

"It just seems you are his first choice but you aren't necessarily the best option," he sighs.

"And I've been trying to tell him that for months, for years to be honest.

"You see it's not just a matter of marrying the king. Our King has real power and his queen does too. The King oversees the running of the planet but the Queen is like his deputy Prime Minister and senior advisor. She is directly in control of the health issues, education and other more internal matters. She works with her own set of advisors and council to keep the realm ah planet running harmoniously. Becoming queen, like becoming king, requires careful and long-term study."

This isn't what I expected – you have to study to be queen? I wonder if this is why dad wanted me to make more of myself and if so why didn't he tell me about all this early. Being queen isn't so attractive when it's not a life of luxury but a life of public service. Dad says queens are groomed from birth for the role which is why the grand-daughter of the previous king is usually the perfect candidate but not in this case.

"I suppose me being half human and having a human lifespan doesn't help my cause either," I say. It's just a throwaway line and I don't realise the impact it's about to have. It's funny sometimes the simplest things can spark off the biggest changes and in this case it did.

It was that line that prompted my dad to tell me about my past – my real past. I'm not half human – though I have a great great grandfather who was a Celtic Prince – and I'm older than I thought – about 100 years at least (well in human terms – which I'm not). What followed over the next 40 minutes was the story of my dad falling for Sorchia – a young princess of the Stevenson clan, marrying her and having everything he ever wanted. He was a prince of the realm the Crown Prince – so second heir to the throne behind Loki (right hand man to the King and King in waiting– with title, power, responsibility and the most beautiful and talented woman ever). His life was perfect and when I arrived it was even more so. Until a bombing in the marketplace that claimed more than a hundred lives including my mother – my real mother. No one knows if she was the target or just unlucky to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. But by some stroke of luck she didn't take me – it was the first she hadn't. My dad rushed screaming through the streets to her but she died in his arms – he didn't have any healing skills which may have prevented her death. He was lost and devastated and not thinking straight. He left me in the care of my grandparents – wandered the universe until he finally went to university in Australia and met my mother, well not my mother, the person I've always believed to be mother. He came back to Asgard and took me away, bringing me to Australia and while I live in this world I have a "Midgardian" metabolism – so he shortened my lifespan.

I sit there quietly during this story, barely taking it in. He's rewriting me again for the second time in three days. Breaking down who I am, I believed I was and my history, changing my family turning my brothers and mother into half brothers and step mothers. I feel for the man but I'm devastated for the daughter which may be self-centred but for a moment it's all about me. And I can't be near him any more – he finishes and stares at me with tears in his eyes and asks my forgiveness but I can't talk – can't answer him all I can do is turn and run. He yells for me but I run, in the fading light I put distance between him and I – I need to.

I'm about half a kilometre away from my father and the only home I've ever known when the first blast of energy slams into the ground in front of me and I'm knocked sideways – it really isn't my day.

.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

THE one thing about being ambushed on the Hay Plain is that well, there is nowhere to hide. The only trees are back near the river and that is more than half a kilometre away. I am literally a sitting duck. Another beam of light slams into the ground behind me sending a fire ball of burning salt bush into the air. I try to work out where this attack is coming from but there is nothing, no sign, nothing. I know I can't stay where I am. But if I run back to the house I'm leading whatever it is straight to my family. My brothers and mother will be home by now. (No she is still my mother whatever dad says – she raised me and I have known no one else). I have to think and act soon, this is made even more apparent when another beam of light comes perilously close to my head just whistling past my ear and possibly singeing my hair.

I am going to die, I'm going to freaking die. I'm trying to stop myself from going into a full blown panic mode but it's not easy. I'm not a mystical "demi god", I can't suddenly disappear. I'm a duck in a shooting gallery and my goose is cooked.

Mmmm and just as I'm about to curl up in foetal position and wait to be obliterated I realise I might not be as defenceless as I look. I mean I'm a freaky alien right? And freaky aliens seem to be able jump around the place and call other freaky aliens. I start heading towards the house realising that while my brother's are there so is my dad and well it is partially his fault for getting me shot at. I will myself home and call to my father at the same time. And all the while I'm dodging weird balls of light trying to kill me. Light balls of death. I feel a strange prickly sensation in the back of my head and wonder if maybe I've made contact. I try to contact dad again and then Loki – after-all until he beamed me up to his throne room no one had actually tried to kill me! Sure a few of Matt's fans had written pretty creepy messages on twitter, tumblr and facebook about me but the fan-girls had never actually thrown light balls of death.

I call for Loki and then dad, addressing him as both dad and Thor just in case. I hope someone picks up my message soon. I can see our machinery shed coming up and I'm wondering if this might be a good place to hide. It's hard to know what will put someone off when you a) don't know what they look like and who they are b) are unsure where they are coming from.

I'm ducking and weaving like a pro-basketballer now and the death balls are getting bigger, brighter and a lot more dangerous. Luckily the aim is getting worse. "Loki – Thor, anyone," I call out still thinking of my house. All of a sudden it seems to pay off and I'm shimmering gold and dematerialising fast. I have a brief moment of fear when I think this could be out of the frying pan and into the fire as I feel my bodies molecules spread out into the thin air.

And suddenly I'm on the front veranda of our house and there is a leather-clad body pressed in front of me – hands outstretched hands glowing with bright green light beside him, so close they are touching shoulders is a second figure. They are whirling their hands round and their heads are swivelling madly. Now my eyes are readjusting I realise I'm behind Loki and the other figure is my dad but he's doesn't look like my dad. He too is wearing armour, though will Loki's is leather; dad is of a shiny metal. He looks like something out of the movies – he looks like Thor. He doesn't have the winged helmet on – thank god or I would have lost it despite the gravity of the situation.

The balls of light are still coming but Loki and dad seem able to deflect them pretty easily.

They are talking to each other and although I'm pressed pretty close to Loki (I think I'm kind of bound to him by magic or whatever it is they use – kinetic energy? I'm not sure) I can't really hear a lot that's happening. You would think the lightshow and what the two warriors in front of me are doing would be quiet but it isn't. The light-balls make a sound like thunder and a deafening crack and sizzle as they break our atmosphere and rip towards the ground while dad and Loki's "magic" sounds a bit like the noise of a lightsaber in the old Star Wars movie, whooshing and whirring as they move their hands.

"Where is this coming from brother?" I hear dad ask (brother? Brother in arms maybe?).

"I think it's the moon – but whoever it is seems cloak and definitely determined not to be found," Loki yells as another much bigger and louder energy ball slams in. This one breaks their defences a little and pushes the three of us backwards. I look back behind us and I see my mother and brothers staring out the window –wide-eyed at the light show and the two "gods" that are guarding me. I wonder to myself how much, if any, each one of them knows about my father's other life – about mine. Another light fizzes and explodes like a golden shower of fireworks at the side of the veranda and I turn and motion my family to get away from the window and get further inside.

Dad and Loki are still doing their best to keep the fireballs from harming me or anyone else in the family but the attack seems relentless and I wonder just how long they can keep this up. The force they are using to fight seems to come from their own life forces (dad's is a reddish gold while Loki's is a greenie-gold). Surely this is taking a lot out of them. I wish I could help. I've never been one to just sit back like this. I have always driven cars and rode bikes and gone out hunting with the boys, never been a prissy princess (ironically). But now I have no choice.

I watch the muscles ripple in Loki's back though the leather and I feel the power coursing through, I'm sure if he had his armour and shirt off you could actually see it the power and energy. I go a little warm at this thought. (I'm angry at him I can't find him sexy – it's not happening – I'm in danger, my family is in danger because of him...).

I breathe hard and it obviously tickles the back of Loki's neck because he loses concentration, shivers and stumbles a little just as a huge ball of light comes streaming for us. I'm sure it's too much for dad to handle on his own and we are done for. Loki recovers and gets his hands into position to try and help but it is huge and it's coming straight for us. I know we are done for all – of us me and Loki dad and maybe my family in the house. I act on instinct and my hands fly out and around Loki's waist. I pull him to me and we dive out of the way together or maybe I throw him, I'm not sure because the light around is a pure pure bright yellow gold way brighter than Loki's own green gold energy and it cushions our fall as we brace for impact.

But it never comes. A dome of blue gold light instead spreads itself completely over our heads – and surrounds the house. I look up in amazement from the floor, where I am now a tangle of limbs with Loki and see my dad smile and point.

A rainbow appears in the sky but it's not the silent type – this one makes a mighty whooshing sound as it connects with the red earth of our driveway. Still recovering from the appearance of the rainbow I notice a single figure gliding gracefully along the colour paths of the rainbow. She is dressed in a blue flowing gown with immaculate hair and a sense of grace and poise that seems other-worldly -and is because as she gently touches a slippered foot to the ground just inside our new blue dome dad moves towards her.

"I see I still have to get you boys out of scrapes," she says laughing just as dad crushes her in a bear hug.

"Even country doctors need their mum's sometime!" dad says a huge smile breaking over his face.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

QUEEN Frigga of Asgard stands in the middle of the chaos of her family – a calm and serene island in the middle of a disorganised rabble.

She is beautiful beyond words but with a strength that sits in her sparkling blue eyes – the same eyes gifted to her son and to my brother Ewan. The Ewan in question is gawping through the wire screen door of our old farmhouse at the woman, who is every inch the goddess our legends make her out to be. Cameron is leaning on his shoulder and both have their mouths open so wide open that I'm glad the cold weather has stopped the steady stream of flies we've had lately.

My mother is already out the door and hugging my father furiously like his and her life depended on it – as a kid I would have cringed at the sight of my parents hugging or god forbid kissing but after hearing the story earlier its kind of nice that in all the universe he found himself someone he loves so much again.

Me? Where am I while my beautiful, poised and regal grandmother stands in a shimmer of blue chiffon-like fabric on our dusty shabby chic (okay more shabby than chic) verandah? I'm sprawled in a heap near the swinging chair with the King Asgard. Actually, and I can't work out how, I'm somehow on top of him. And while my grandmother is elegant I'm more um well a lot less elegant. I'm wearing faded and ripped blue jeans (more out of love than style) and a tight green singlet top and I've just realised from this angle Loki is getting a spectacular view of my tits (which along with the fact that I'm on top of him) is probably why he has made no move to get up.

The boys know better than to lean on our front door because while dad maybe Thor he's a crap home handyman and should never be allowed near a hammer – ever. So of course the inevitable happens, the door comes off its hinges and the boys fly out to join us on the veranda forcing my parents to jump out of the way. So now there are six of us sprawled on the floor around the elegant queen. It's a funny sight I'm sure in fact I know it is because my grandmother starts to laugh and not the tinkling elegant laugh I would have expected no this is a loud belly laugh my father would be proud of.

Laughing with her, I untangle myself from Loki, dust myself off and I'm first to my feet and suddenly face –to-face with the still laughing reigning queen of Asgard.

"So this is my little princess all grown up!" she says after pulling herself together running an eye over me. The rest of the family is now regaining their feet and composure too and are standing all around us. She looks over my shoulder to Loki who is now standing up behind me and nods with a half smile.

"I can see why you wish to consider her – she is a true beauty, but we always knew she would be didn't we?" her smile softens and she holds out her hand to me.

"Come child let me look at you properly!"

She is just so calm again and it's obvious that she is using her powers to protect all of us. In fact now she and her shield are in place, the previous battle ground is eerily quiet and the fireballs have stopped. And while you could see the strain on Loki and dad's faces as they were using their power, she must be exuding tremendous energy to keep the force-field up – none of it shows on her face or in her body movement. In short this is one kick-arse woman. And she is my grandmother! Go gran.

I step forward and instinctively (and that is the only way I could describe it) I hold out my hand to her and bow my head.

She smiles serenely, before pulling me in for a hug. It feels lovely to have her arms around me – like I belong there or something. She smells amazing and familiar and like nothing I can really describe other than to say she smells like lilac and fluffy clouds on a sunny day. And she smells like home. I don't know if it's a flash of memory or just my crazy imagination but I see a small child hugged in her arms and I hear gentle singing.

"Oh how I have missed my Caitylin," she whispers. "I begged him not to take you from me."

I look up and see her eyes have misted over and I suddenly realise that I wasn't the only one effected by my father's decision to run away out to the flat red Hay Plains. My dad and mum are both looking a little misty at this encounter and I see mum squeeze his hand in comfort. My brothers are back to gawping because, lets face it – my father and some strange man are on our verandah looking like the stars of a Marvel movie, huge fire balls from the sky almost killed us and a beautiful shimmering queen just arrived on a rainbow from out of the clouds. They've got to be wondering what mushrooms mum used in their omelettes this morning – I know I would be.

"Thank you for coming – if you hadn't pushed Loki and I out of the way and put this dome over us we would have been toast!" I say as I untangle myself from Frigga's arms.

She laughs "oh child I just put the dome up but you were the one that pulled Loki to safety and protected him with your magic."

Hang on – what did she say? I don't have any bloody magic I'm just an actress from Hay in South Western New South Wales, Australia, Earth – oh wait...

"But...I've never – I can't I'm human and..." I stammer out. And the Queen smiles again her blue eyes (really so like my father's) twinkle.

"Oh my dear you have always been incredibly strong in your magic – it just needed the right situation to bring it out," she says then turning once again to address Loki, who is now standing next to me.

"Do your remember, we would put that book up high and next morning we would come in and she'd have it in her hands again?"

I must have looked puzzled because Loki leaned over to me and says conspiratorially.

"I didn't know about kids and you use to bother me endlessly while I was reading so I started reading Shakespeare to you to shut you up," he sighed.

"I had a Shakespeare first folio of Henry the fifth that I'd read you every night and I'd put it out of your reach in my room when your grandmother would come to put you to bed.

"And every morning the precious heirloom would find it's way back into your bedclothes with your dolls and toys. A hand-written Shakespearian book in with stuffed toys and Emerald your rag doll"

"That was you? I thought dad did that?" I say looking at him in amazement and he shrugs like it's no big deal – my life-long love of Shakespeare and my ambition to be an actress steam from those childhood memories that I've always thought took place in our house in Sydney before mum's father died and she switched from trainee doctor to farmer. I'm still shaking my head at the thought that I remember growing up on another planet.

"You mean that was Asgard – I have memories of Asgard – of you all on the planet of my birth?" I say looking a tad amazed and just a smidge shocked. However obviously not as shocked and amazed as my brother's who are looking at me like I'm really really from cloud cuckoo-land.

"What the fuck?!" says Cameron and my mother shakes her head.

"I think it's time for a good cuppa and some dinner," she says steering my father towards the door.

"Will you join us her majesty? Loki?" she adds and I become aware of the fact that this is probably not the first time she has met either of them.

They both nod graciously and we head inside – Frigga looping her arm through mine.

She leans over and tells me that my memories of Asgard will come back when I "go home!".

"But I am home!" I say quietly.

"We will see dear, we will see," she says cryptically.

"Anyway I didn't think you wanted me on Asgard, you sent Sigyn to warn me off this morning – tell me to stay out of Asgardian politics for the good of the realm or some bullshit," I whisper as we walk into our large loungeroom that looks like a throw-back to the 50s with added roaring woodfireplace.

Frigga stops in her tracks and looks at me.

"My daughter was here?" she says probably a little louder than she intended and everyone else stopped.

I feel all the room's eyes on me as I nod.

"She bailed me up in the carpark of the bakery in Wagga this morning and told me you wanted me to stay out of Asgard," I said (getting a little satisfaction from the fact that I might have just dobbed my "Aunt" into her mother).

Loki snorts, shakes his head and mutters something that may have been in another language while my father comes to me with a look of concern.

"Did she hurt you?" he asks taking my hands. I shake my head.

"She has always had designs on the throne – and I never liked the way she looked at Caitlyn when she was a child," he says turning to his mother. I'm a little shocked at this because according to our legends this is a kind woman – the goddess of fidelity - but then hey, she's an Errikson Princess and could be the all-powerful queen if I'm not around. I have a rather sobering thought.

"Do you think tonight – could have been her?" I ask.

"Wouldn't put it past the bitch," Loki mutters. I look at him and laugh. Mmmm an attitude like that from her potential "intended could be a bit of a problem if she wants the thrown. Frigga gives both of us a warning glare.

"She wouldn't have the power on her own," Frigga says quietly

"It might have been one of the others, Amelia and Lauralei have more magic!" dad says.

Okay it's really starting to become obvious that being Queen of Asgard is a highly sought-after position and could turn into a bit of a bitch fight. I was probably naive to think it wasn't. But I don't know anything about Asgard and I hardly know Loki, certainly not well enough to die for! Well I must admit he is easy on the eye – he will wear those tight leather pants but being blown up because someone's butt looks good in leather doesn't seem appealing. Anyway I'm starting to wonder how much say Loki actually gets in choosing a wife. I'm thinking out all this quietly when I hear Cameron, who must be getting frustrated by this conversation.

"Hang on – what are we talking about?" he asks loudly.

"Our sister is in line to replace grandmother as the Queen of Asgard and some other bitches want to take her down!" Ewan says and I laugh at how perceptive he is and how he has cut through any long winded explanations that dad might have made. He's cut to the chase as usual (and people think farmers are dumb? Please).

"Hey but I'm dad's oldest son – don't I get a look in on the crown?" Cameron asks.

Loki smiles and walks over to him running a hand seductively over his chin (and I try not to laugh at the look of horror on Cameron's face).

"Sorry darling but you're not my type!" he says using his wolfish voice and grinning at me.


	10. Chapter 10

Emerald 10

THEY are the four most terrifying words in the English language – able to strike fear into the hearts of any parent and apparently the odd Asgardian princess (yep I've decided to own the princess thing – or at least try it on for size for a day or two).

"Are we there yet?" comes the voice beside me in the passenger seat of my Landcruiser and I shudder. I wouldn't mind so much but we are only 40 minutes into our journey and haven't even reached the halfway point of the Hay plain. We have best part of the day in the car – I'm not expecting to reach Sydney until dusk and the sun is only just up.

Looking at the King of Asgard, with his seat pushed back and his long legs stretched out in front of him, I realise it's going to be a long day – a very long day.

It's a day and a half since the attack on our farm, my impromptu meeting with my grandmother and the discovery that I'm not exactly the normal human girl I always thought I was – okay the "normal" has always been debatable I just thought "human" was a given.

My grandmother wanted to haul me straight back to Asgard, deciding that I was in danger and where better to hide than in plain sight. Because let's face it – though I might have a few enemies thanks to being linked with one of the hotter actors in Australia – the fan girls of tumblr don't exactly have the skills to send balls of fire at my head, house and loved-ones. So we are all guessing Asgardians or at the very least some sort of freaky alien. Of course my father Tony/Thor god of Thunder and physician of Hay, believes I should be placed under house arrest out on the farm – also not my favourite suggestion. I have an audition for one of my favourite plays on the West End in London and I don't care if someone is trying to fry my arse – I've worked too hard to not be there.

So after careful deliberation from the gang of three (my grandmother, father and the god of mischief (and incredibly tight pants)) it was decided that I would be allowed to attend my audition and then it would be straight to Asgard where I could be protected and maybe even help to smoke out the person trying to flambé me. It was actually Loki who suggested the compromise (which of course included none of dad's plan) and my grandmother came on-board when he offered himself up as my body guard.

I swear my grandmother is trying to match-make the two of us. Actually I think she wants me "home" and she doesn't mind using Loki to do it! I'm starting to wonder if she wasn't the one who suggested Loki consider me as his queen or at least mentioned me in passing enough to have him think about "courting me" or whatever it is he's trying to do.

So the great and mighty king was sent back to Asgard like a good boy by the all powerful Frigga to clear his schedule for a day or two (mmm while his are tight – we know who really wears the pants in this relationship). Of course he expected to zap us straight to London and then up to Asgard but I had things to collect from my place in Sydney and there was no way I was going to leave my almost brand new Landcruiser in the hands of my crazy hooning brothers to paddock bash. And though I suspect my grandmother was more than strong enough to send my car home via the hocus pocus stuff – she encouraged us to drive from Hay to Sydney! (Google it – not exactly just up the road).

Loki is less that pleased and dad even more so. Too many places to be ambushed from Loki's point of view and too much time spent in the same car with the god hormones for my dad's liking.

But I wouldn't budge and Loki wouldn't let me go on my own and Frigga wouldn't let dad go with me and so here we are. Me and the God of Mischief trapped in a car heading north up the Newell to Sydney.

The Hay Plain is long and flat with nothing but saltbush and fences for as far as the eye can see – if you don't know it that is. I've grown up here and I love it – I notice that the Boyles have a new mail box, I see a wedge tail eagle off in the distance and I revel in the open space. The King of Asgard fiddles with the radio – I'm amazed that he knows about these things though he's less than impressed at the lack of radio and not incredibly impressed with my CD selection.

"Do you have anything that isn't by a female singer or this strange hairy man?" he says.

"Not a fan of John Butler or Adele then?" I laugh and I get that spectacular eye-roll.

"So what does the all powerful Loki listen to?" I say keeping my eyes on the road (and away from the long legs of a certain god and his too tight black jeans - who knew the King of Asgard actually had jeans). He appeared back this morning from Asgard with a small suitcase all ready for our adventure. My Grandmother, who had stayed with us until late the night before, flashed in with him (on her rainbow) to say goodbye and make me promise to stay safe and see her in a few days.

"I like to emerse myself in all styles of music from around the world– Midgardian music is quite diverse I use to love listening to that long-haired Englishman from the 60s, but African Rhythms, blues well anything," he said.

Loki flicked through a few more of my CDs before selecting one he seemed to like the look of and we were treated to Radio Head – of course we were – and he was word-perfect on Creep. After that there was a bit of Green Day and by then it was almost time for lunch in Dubbo. He was anti multi national junk food chain so we found a quiet cafe just off the main drag to eat and finally start to chat.

"In this light, sitting there you look like the perfect combination of your mother and grandmother," he says staring at me as I tear into my chicken and salad sandwhich and we work our way through a pot of earl gray tea together. I'm just happy to be out of the car after almost five hours and so his comment takes me by surprise even though he had been looking at me strangely for a few minutes.

"What was she like, Sorcha I mean?" I ask. I've only just been told I have a mother other than Jane and it still feels disloyal to call anyone else mum anyway. But I'm curious. Dad has told me very little about her and I didn't want to push it.

"She was beautiful and graceful – thank goodness you seem to have taken after her and not that clumsy oaf of a father or yours," he laughed a little sadly.

"She was artistic, she loved to dance and could play several musical instruments – but still with a steel to her, she could stand up to anyone and anything and fiercely protective of her family."

He looked off into the distant busy street of Dubbo, lost in thought obviously searching for the right things to tell me or maybe just remembering. He smiled a half smile and looked at me.

"When I came to the palace from our part of the realm I knew no-one – she and your father, her sister Sif and the warriors three were already firm friends and more than half grown. Most people eyed me with suspicion – my father wasn't exactly a peace loving man or someone to easily befriend or trust, I think that was why Frigga made Odin bring me to the palace at such a tender age.

"The others avoided me – wanted little to do with me but not Sorcha – she helped Frigga set up my chambers, discovered my love of books and went to the markets to help Frigga fill my shelves. She became my first friend in the capital, the palace – I was a scared timid little boy a long way from a home. I hadn't fit in at home and it didn't look like I would there either but Frigga and Sorcha made me welcome and then your uncle Hermod, who was just a little younger than me, started to play with me and eventually he and then Thor treated me like a brother. Suddenly I had a family for the first time. And it was all down to Sorcha really she led the way for the others."

I smiled at him, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. In his eyes at that moment I saw the confused little boy that this now mighty and confident king must have been back then and I smiled. I loved that my mother had helped him so much, that she was one of the reasons he was the man he was now (mmm now I know who to blame!). I felt a little closer to her now I knew a little more about her but I also started to realise that I had lost something. Yes I loved the mother I had but I couldn't help wondering what it would have been like to have Sorcha in my life – I wished I remembered her.

A squeeze on my fingers brought me back to the cafe in Dubbo and the long drive ahead. I smiled again at my companion. He wasn't that bad I suppose as far as mythical gods and alien kings went.

"I'm sorry I made you sad Caitlyn, it wasn't my intention," he said earnestly.

"No, thank you for sharing," I said meaning it.


End file.
